


BOOK ONE: SUNDOWN

by sundownwriting (beemblez)



Series: The Sundown Saga [1]
Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Canon Rewrite, F/M, Rewrite, Twilight Series Rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 18:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21213365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beemblez/pseuds/sundownwriting
Summary: About three things I was absolutely positive.First, I enjoyed Twilight as I was growing up.Second, there was a part of me - and I don't know how dominant that part may be - that I wanted Twilight to be better.And third, I was absolutely going to rewrite it myself.(The fact that there's a tag for Twilight Rewrites shows I'm certainly not the first to do this.)





	BOOK ONE: SUNDOWN

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, unbroken blue. I was wearing my most comfortable jeans and shirt - a faded hand me down of some punk rock band from my mother's childhood. Tucked under my seat was my carry-on item; a parka, only recently freed from its tags.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. Somehow, it rains in this otherwise inconsequential town more than any other place in the USA. It was from this town and its ever-constant rainfall that I was born.

My parents' marriage hadn't lasted too long, though they'd parted on good terms. After a few years, she moved to Arizona and took me with her, though we still returned to Washington during the summer and for a few days around Christmas. With my moving back to Forks, that was all about to change.

"Bella," my mom began, ready to ask the same question that had already been asked dozens of times before we'd reached the gate. "Are you sure about this?"

My mom and I shared the same pale, freckled skin and brown eyes, though where I let my hair grow out, she kept hers cut short. My heart clenched as I looked at her, the doubt and concern clear on her face.

I loved my mom and Phoenix, but her busy lifestyle just wasn't for me. And now with her new husband, there was no longer the fear of leaving her alone. The sleepy town of Forks was calling and I was ready to answer.

"I want to go," I said, trying to put as much emphasis on it as possible. Even then, her eyes still roamed my face for any sort of tell that maybe I was just trying to spare her feelings. Whatever she saw must have been convincing enough because she let out a sigh.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I will. I love you, mom."

We hugged tightly for a minute and then I got on the plane and was gone.

It was a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles and then an hour drive back to Forks. Dad was nice enough to come and pick me up, something I was grateful for. Even with my small amount of luggage, the idea of taking a bus there wasn't very appealing.

As expected, he was waiting for me with the cruiser. Dad was Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. Seeing my approach, he held out his arms ready for a hug that I was more than happy to give out.

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as the two of us swayed from side to side. "Your hair's gotten longer! How's your mom?"

"She's okay, just worried about me. It's good to see you too." I only had a few bags. Most of my old clothes weren't exactly suitable for the weather in Washington, so I'd had to save money to buy a new wardrobe. As it was, it all fit into the back of the cruiser with ease.

Sliding into the passenger seat of the cruiser was second nature. Dad fiddled with the stereo for a few moments, letting the quiet sound of a local radio station fill the background before setting off.

"I found a good car for you, by the way," he announced as way of starting off a conversation. "Well, technically a truck. Remember Billy?"

I nodded. Billy Black was an old, close friend of my dad's who lived at La Push, the small Quileute reservation on the coast. When I was younger I would go on fishing trips with him, his son and my dad. Over the past few years, he'd had to start using his wheelchair more and more.

"He can't exactly drive that truck of his anymore, so he offered to sell it for cheap. It's a Chevy, one of the old solid ones. He's done a lot of work on the engine, so you don't worry too much about how it runs."

"How much is he selling it for?"

He went quiet for a moment before glancing across at me sheepishly. "Well, I kind of already bought it for you." Before I could open my mouth to protest, he cut me off. "Now look, I know you won't want me driving you here, there and everywhere. Consider it a homecoming gift."

"In that case, I'm paying for dinner at some point."

"Sure thing, kiddo," he said, trying to hold back a laugh. "I suppose I can live with that."

The conversation bounced back and forth but even when it trailed off, it was never into an awkward silence. From time to time I'd stare out of the window, watching the verdant landscape scroll past.

There was no other word for it other than beautiful. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air seemed to filter down greenly through the leaves.

Compared to Phoenix, it seemed like a whole other world.

Eventually, we made it to the house. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he and my mother had bought in the early days of their marriage and that I'd spent many a summer at. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never seemed to change, was my new truck. The red paint was faded and it had big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab.

It was love at first sight. I trusted what Dad had said about how it ran and knew that it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged; the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched and surrounded by the pieces of whatever car had been unlucky to get tangled with it.

"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Having the truck would make school so much easier, no longer forced to either walk the two miles home in the rain or bothering Dad for a lift.

"I'm glad you like it," he said with a small, pleased smile on his face.

It took only one trip to get all my luggage upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar, having belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue walls and the peaked ceiling were all a part of my childhood.

Through the years it had changed plenty though it was mostly as I remembered it from the last time I was there, the only new additions being a solid wooden desk with a computer on it. The rocking chair from my baby days had been pushed aside in favour of a fold-up chair.

One of the best things about my dad was that he knew when someone needed some quiet. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, with a reminder that if I needed anything, to give him a shout. It was nice to be alone, to be able to get used to the already so different atmosphere. Glancing out the window, I saw the rain falling in sheets and found my thoughts drifting towards the coming morning.

Forks High School had the sum total of only three hundred and fifty-seven students and would soon be welcoming one more. Back in Phoenix, there was nearly twice that in my junior class alone. All of the kids here had grown up together and their grandparents had been toddlers together. I wouldn't be a complete stranger; after all, I'd visited plenty enough during the holidays. But still, the idea of being the odd one out was enough to start my stomach churning.

When I'd finished putting my clothes away into the old pine dresser, I took my bag of toiletries and went into the bathroom to freshen up before dinner. I couldn't help but study my reflection as I brushed my hair in the mirror; pale skin, the only sign of any sun exposure being the explosion of freckles across my face and the same wide, dark eyes as my mother. The brown hair was all from my father, however, and it fell loosely around my shoulders.

Once again, my worries about fitting in with the new school surfaced. Social interaction had never been my strong suit, not for lack of confidence but for the lack of interest. I'd always been the sort of person to sit on the sidelines and daydream. When my head finally pulled out of the clouds, I realised that everyone had already moved on ahead and left me to trail behind.

It would be different here, I was sure of it.

Turning away from my reflection I headed downstairs. Dinner was a simple affair, sandwiches made from what was left in the fridge. Dad wanted to wait until I was here to get more groceries so we made a list of what to get. My anxiety from earlier seemed to evaporate as we chatted. It seemed even now I had the habit of getting too caught up in my own head.

Surprisingly I slept quite well that night. I'd thought that the constant sound of the rain and wind across the roof would have kept me up, but they faded easily into the background. By the time morning came, the rain had slowed to a quiet drizzle and fog rolled out over the town.

Breakfast was a quiet event, with neither of us being a morning person. Dad wished me good luck at school before heading off to the police station. Alone again, I sat at the old square table and examined the small kitchen, with its dark panelled walls, bright yellow cabinets and white linoleum floor.

Everything was as I remembered it. My mom had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some more sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining family room was a row of pictures. First, a wedding picture of my parents in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse. Following that was a procession of school photographs, some more embarrassing to look at than others.

Looking around, I don't think my dad ever stopped loving my mom. Something had just changed and they weren't in love anymore. They still spoke and had the occasional conversation but there always seemed to be a barrier between them. An unspoken agreement that things just weren't the same anymore.

Putting that thought out of my mind, I finally gave up and accepted I'd just be at school painfully early. I donned my jacket and hoped that it'd be enough to shelter me from the rain. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unfamiliar and I found myself missing the crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't help but stop and admire my truck, but quickly hurried to get in when the rain started up again.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or my dad had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline and peppermint. The engine started quickly but loudly, a sudden roar of life before dropping to a slightly quieter idling sound. The antique radio even worked, a pleasant surprise that I wasn't expecting.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. It was just off the highway, like most other things in Forks. A smile crept onto my face as I spotted the sign declaring the small cluster of buildings to be Forks High School. Gone were the chain-link fences, metal detectors and oppressive facade of my old school, instead replaced with more shrubs and trees than I could count.

The parking lot was mostly empty and I pulled in front of the first building I saw, a sign reading post office over the door. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to park there, but I figured it would be easier to get directions inside rather than circling around aimlessly. I stepped out of the warm truck cab and hurried across to the doorway, wanting to spend as little time in the wet and cold as possible.

Inside, it was brightly lit and even warmer than the truck. The office was small and I took it all in quickly; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange flecked carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, and a big clock that punctuated every second with a loud ticking. Plants grew everywhere, spilling out of their pots and matching the already green outside. Behind the counter were three desks, one of which was manned by a plump, red-haired woman with thick glasses.

She looked up, pushing her glasses a notch higher up her nose. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Bella Swan," I told her and saw immediate awareness in her eyes. My return to Forks had likely been a popular topic for the town.

"Of course," she said as she began digging through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk. "I have your schedule right here, as well as a map of the school."

She brought several sheets to the counter and went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map. She also gave me a slip for each of my teachers to sign, that I would then bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and said that she hoped that I would like it here in Forks. I waved over my shoulder at her as I left the office.

When I got back to the truck, other students were starting to arrive. I quickly hopped in, following the line of traffic. I couldn't help but sigh in relief when I saw that most of the cars were older like mine. In Phoenix, it was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo which managed to stand out.

As soon as I was in a spot, I cut the engine and took to looking at the map in an attempt to figure out where building three was. I knew I'd likely have to check it again later in the day, but for now, it would help to at least find my first class without it stuck to my nose. I was beginning to get nervous again so I stuffed the map in my bag and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I told myself as I got out of the truck before I could psych myself out.

My hood stayed up and hid my face as I walked to the sidewalk. Quickly I slipped into the crowd of teenagers, my plain black jacket easily blending in with the rest of them. Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner and I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was much smaller than I expected. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks and I copied them. They were both girls, one with dark blonde hair and the other with hair similar in colour to my own.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr Mason. He did a double-take when he saw my name - not an encouraging response - and I felt my cheeks start to redden. He sent me to an empty desk at the back of the classroom without bothering to introduce me to my classmates, something I was glad of. I kept my eyes down on the reading list that he'd given me, trying to ignore how the other students kept glancing back at me. The list was familiar: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read all of them and had done essays on a couple of the names on there. I wondered if mom would send me my old folder of essays or if she would think it was cheating.

When the bell rang, a lanky boy with black hair leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Bella Swan, right?" I nodded and he grinned. "I'm Eric. What's your next class?"

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government with Jefferson in building six."

"I'm in building four but I can show you the way if you want?" I nodded gratefully and we grabbed our jackets before setting off. A couple of people lingered behind us and I tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. "This must be pretty different from Phoenix, huh?"

"Oh, totally," I said. "It only rains like three or four times a year there, so this is a bit of a shock."

"Wow, I wonder what that must be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny. Hot. Very sweaty." He laughed at this and I couldn't help but smile in response.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric left me by the white sign and wished me luck as he made his way to his own class.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr Varner, who I would have disliked anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered my way through it and the class politely clapped when I was done.

After a couple of classes, I started to recognise several faces in each class. There was always someone who would introduce themselves and ask how I was liking Forks. I ended up never needing the map as most people were more than willing to show me where I needed to go. One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish and we walked to the cafeteria together for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my average height but her wild, curly hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I thought her name was Jessica but didn't want to use it in case I was wrong, so I mostly smiled and nodded as she chatted about teachers and classes.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced me to. I forgot all of their names as soon as she said them and hoped that I would be able to pick them up again from the conversation around me. I spotted Eric from across the room and he waved when our eyes met.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom and trying to keep up with several curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the opposite corner of the cafeteria. There were five of them, none of them talking or touching the tray of food in front of them. They hadn't even glanced at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without being caught. I couldn't help it - they were unlike anyone else I'd ever seen.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was leaner but still clearly muscular with honey blond hair. The last was lanky, almost dwarfed by the other two, with untidy, copper-colour hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college or even teachers here, rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque, the kind you saw on the covers of magazine and that made every girl around her wonder how they too could get a figure like her. Her hair was golden and fell in gentle waves against the small of her back. The short girl was pixie-like, thin in the extreme with dainty features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and sticking in every direction.

Yet despite their obvious differences, they were almost exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students in this sunless town. They all had very dark eyes, ringed with purplish shadows as if they were all suffering from a sleepless night. But all this is not why I couldn't help but stare.

I stared because their faces, so different yet so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you'd never expect to see outside the airbrushed pages in a fashion magazine. It was difficult to decide who was the most beautiful - perhaps the perfect blonde girl or the copper-haired boy.

They were all looking away - away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed by her dancer's step, as she dumped her tray with its unopened soda and unbitten apple before gliding through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others and I tugged on Jessica's sleeve.

"Who are they?"

As she looked up to see who I meant, suddenly the boyish one looked at her. He looked at Jessica for just a fraction of a second and then his dark eyes flickered to mine. I looked away quickly, my face flushing with embarrassment. In that brief glance, his face held nothing of interest - it was as if someone had called his name and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

"Those are the Cullens," she answered, her face matching mine in its pink hue. "The one who left was Alice. The others are Edward and Emmett Cullen and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. They all live together with Dr Cullen and his wife."

I glanced sideways at them again. Their names were unusual, the kinds of names that grandparents had. The younger boy was looking at his tray not, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly and though the others didn't turn to look, it seemed he was speaking quietly to them.

"They are... very nice-looking." I struggled with the words, not wanting to embarrass myself further.

"Yes, they are!" Jessica agreed with a giggle. "They're all together though - Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town. But I had to admit, that even in Phoenix it would cause gossip.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't really look related..."

"Oh, they're not. They're all adopted. The Hales - the blondes - are brother and sister and they're foster children."

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, but they've been with Mrs Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."

"That's really kind of nice for them to take n all those kids like that."

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly as if she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. "I think that Mrs Cullen can't have kids though. Not that that makes it less kind but..." She trailed off, sticking her fork into her pasta with a sour look on her face.

"Have they always lived in Forks? I don't remember seeing them before."

"No, they just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

By now, I'd worked up the courage to watch them again. As I examined them, the youngest looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. I quickly looked down at the table once more. It seemed as though his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish-brown hair?" I asked, daring another glance at him from the corner of my eye. He was still staring, though now he looked somewhat frustrated. I looked down again, feeling my cheeks darken even further.

"That's Edward," she said. "He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date anyone and trust me, we've tried."

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They were all noticeably graceful, even the big, brawny one. It was almost unsettling to watch. If Edward looked at me again, I didn't see it.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been by myself. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day and one of my new acquaintances reintroduced herself as Angela. We had Biology II together so she shyly offered to walk with me. Neither of us said much and it seemed that she was just as nervous as I was.

When we entered the classroom, she went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbour and it was quickly apparent that all the seats were filled except one. Next to the centre aisle was Edward Cullen, sitting next to the only open seat.

I couldn't help but watch him as I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed. As I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat and stared at me once again with open hostility. I looked away quickly in shock and stumbled over my own feet. A girl asked if I was okay and I simply nodded in response.

His eyes were black - coal black.

Mr Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit next to him, bewildered by the furious state he'd given me.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelt of strawberries, the scent of my favourite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough scent. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us and tried to pay attention to the teacher.

Unfortunately, the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down. Still, I couldn't help but peek through the screen of my hair at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never released his stiff position on the edge of his seat, sitting as far away from me as possible. I could see his clenched fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This too never relaxed.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked as if he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this how he usually behaved? Surely Jessica would have mentioned something if this was the norm.

It couldn't be my fault. I'd never met him before today. But the seed of doubt had taken root in my chest and I found myself peeking across at him once more. Immediately I regretted it as he glared back at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose, towering over me for a few moments before he was out of the door faster than any of the other students could stand.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. After a few moments, I began gathering up my things slowly and tried to fight back the tears that were trying so desperately to get out. It wasn't fair. I hadn't done anything and yet he seemed to hate me so strongly.

"Aren't you Bella Swan?" a male voice asked, causing my head to snap up. It was a baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes. From the smile on his face, he clearly didn't share the same opinion as Edward Cullen.

"Yeah," I said, internally cringing at how my voice wavered.

"I'm Mike. Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"I'm in the gym next. I think I can find it."

"That's my next class too! We can walk there together." He was a talker - he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easier for me to calm down. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he was curious how I was adjusting to the lack of sun. It turned out he was in my English class as well and was one of the nicest people I'd met today.

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Cullen with a pencil or something? I've never seen him act like that."

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "I never spoke to him."

"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the changing rooms. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have at least said hello."

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for today's class. Back in Phoenix, only two years of P.E. were required but here it was mandatory for all four years. I was not looking forward to that.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had managed to both sustain and inflict when playing volleyball had my nerves spiking again.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away but the wind was strong and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself.

When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. It wasn't difficult to recognise him, even as he had his back to me. He didn't take notice of me coming through the door, so I stood pressed against the back wall to wait for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument; he was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time. Any other time.

It had to be about me. For some reason, he'd taken an immediate dislike to me and couldn't stand to even be in the same room as me.

The door opened again and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk and swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped up to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket and walked out again. But Edward Cullen's back stiffened and he turned slowly to glare at me with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt genuinely afraid, the hair on my arms standing on end. The look only lasted a second but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another glance at me and disappeared out of the door.

I went meekly to the desk, trying to put a smile on my face as I handed her the red slip.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, worry clear on her face.

"I'm fine," I lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced but after a few minutes, let me go.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, the closest thing to home I had at that moment. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I headed back to the house, fighting tears the whole way there.


End file.
